Lisa Brockwell #16 Cranes

Cranes

It wasn’t East River from the Shelton

Hotel, though it had the same futurist,

triumphant feel.  But no, in the Georgia O’Keeffe

I remember, the one above your bed,

there were cranes standing sentinel

over the grey waterfront.  Like the ones I loved

as a child, driving across the Harbour Bridge

to visit my grandparents’ steady, quiet flat.

A fretwork of steel and sky spanning the frame

of the car’s rear window. North Sydney

different each visit.  I can’t find it now

on the internet, which makes me wonder

if it exists at all, or if I added

the cranes.  I’m sure we existed, momentarily

anyway. I thought it a good omen

that you hung cranes above your bed.

I thought we might build something.